


The Devil's Bleeding Crown

by PunsandPoses



Series: Various Music [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Heaven, Hell, True Forms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsandPoses/pseuds/PunsandPoses





	The Devil's Bleeding Crown

_ Down, down, down. _

 

She stumbles, her feet catching on a rock. Her robe, once a blinding white, has faded, the hem robbed and muddy.

The fires of Hell have not dimmed, and tortured souls scream. 

Blades clash. Tired, she watches the armies of Heaven and Hell fight from her position on the high cliffs. Her angel blade hangs limply from her fingers.

Brilliant white, the angels have a beauty, fierce and delicate. Four heads, each of a different animal, rise gracefully from their shoulders. They gleam with power, filling the air with blue.

The demons have savage faces, with unyielding black cesspools for eyes. Twisted horns jut at violent angles from their skulls. 

She watches as the leader of the angelic garrison motions with their hands. Grace crackles in the air.  

Her vessel has nearly been blown to bits.

Her once pretty dark hair has been torn from her head, leaving red patches. Blackened skin hangs from her body. She will be dead soon, her grace is leaving her in short bursts. She wishes she had not been such a fool. 

Slowly, she climbs down, reveling in the feeling of dying.  _ This,  _ she thinks,  _ this is why humans live the way they do. _

Demons crowd around one particular person, taking his orders. 

Beside him sits an angel, whose tears run tracks down his face. Slashes run from his eyes to his chin, staining his tears with the blood of a holy creature. Vessels are not meant to be tortured. 

_ Kill the angels,  _ the demon says. He runs a clawed finger up the angel’s face.  _ Pity they are so pathetic. Their grace might be useful. _

Her hand tightens on the blade, and anger tinges her vision. 

She notices that the demon is wearing a crown of onyx, darkly glittering. 

 

_ Hear the angels plead, ‘oh mercy, mercy, mercy, please’. _

 

She moves through the crowds of demons and angels alike, seeing the blades flash and blood staining the ground. 

She slips once, on a pile of demon innards left behind, her sandals slick with blood.

She makes her way to the leader, never flinching. Death speeds toward her, but she manages to displace it. 

The demons scowl, they bristle with weapons, but she slays them, all of them, mercy unthinkable.

Her grace has nearly left, and she uses it, blasting all with a display of holy powers. Demons disintegrate, leaving behind echoes of screams.

She strides to the leader, who wears an expression of deep shock. It is quickly replaced by a sneer.

_ What is this? _ he hisses,  _ a dying angel believes she can beat us? No, angel, we will defeat you. For I am the King of Hell, and I have armies at my beck and call!  _

She is too tired for a reply. She swings her blade and cuts a deep gash in the demon’s chest.

He gasps in pain, staring at her with deep disgust.

A blade goes through her shoulder, tearing aching muscle and ripping burnt skin. Blood gushes down. 

The pain is distant, though, and she soldiers on, stumbling again towards the demon.

Another blade goes through her chest. Spikes impale her skin, but still, she goes to the leader. Her vision is red, filled with pain.

When she finds him, she lifts her blade and slices his neck, severing his head. A spray of blood stains her robe.

She grabs his crown from his head.

 

_ Raise your hands, what do you hold? The devil’s bleeding crown! _

 

Blood drips, and her hands turn crimson. She collapses, at last, life draining from her.

_ I’m sorry _ , she says to her vessel’s soul. 

The force of the fall snaps the crown, and every demon with a connection to it is crippled with pain. The angels slaughter them, winning the battle.

The crying, slashed angel lifts her up, pulling the blades and spikes from her vessel’s skin.

She is never forgotten, for even the archangels admired her. 

_ Song by Volbeat. _

 


End file.
